


Wandering

by grf



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 12:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18010646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grf/pseuds/grf
Summary: Is there anybody in this walking catastrophe of a party who doesn't fuck? WHO KNOWS?! But these darling, gay, angel babies are not yet, so here's a fluffy and hazy recollection of the gang's adventures at The Wandering Wastrel.





	Wandering

Lib sat at the bar with her hand against the cool glass of the drink she had long since emptied. Even before departing on her mission in Hell, she had not spent much time enmeshed in such environments as what now surrounded her. This was not to say that it was wholly uncomfortable, but this little social space felt like a well-meaning hug from someone she just met: warm and unfamiliar.

The music was messy and indistinct, and Lib’s compatriots seemed to have a knack for chaos and were currently dispersing themselves to various … _endeavours_. Not that she had a problem with that behavior, she just didn’t appreciate the messiness that inevitably followed.

“You’re hardly one to talk,” intoned the cool, comforting voice of Omen. “You’ve been sloppy.”

Lib’s brow furrowed as she considered this. Certainly, she _had_ been sloppy. She continued to be sloppy by the very nature of existing with this bizarre entourage, particularly Solaris. Feelings are always messy.

One by one, the members of her party found there way to bar, to the wagon, to the fortress, to wherever; Lib quickly grew tired of trying to keep track of them, especially once Solaris followed Eva into the back with a prompt about fate. The emotion twisting in Lib’s gut was some horrid amalgam of worry and jealousy, and they roiled away despite how aware she was that they were an absurd response. After all, it’s not like any harm was going to come of this, right?

She was vaguely aware of Cyre ordering some ridiculous drink beside her. She quite liked Cyre; they had a kind, if tattered, heart and were uniquely brilliant. The fact that they had a sort of quiet passion also lent a metaphorical kinship between the two of them... that, and also the fact that Lib was quite used to spending all her time around people who measured their lives in centuries rather than years.

She looked briefly in Avani’s direction, him being the only member of the party that hadn’t romped off from the original table that they had all started at. He seemed to be having a rough time of it, but frankly so did Godfrey, given the way they would sink into periods of silence wherein they seemed to only be taking peeks at the other as though they couldn’t help looking into the sun. Lib chuckled softly to herself at the thought that these two lovebirds, despite their copious anxieties, still seemed to be suaver and more open than she was.

At this point, Solaris emerged from the wagon that _certainly_ could not hold that many people. Lib’s heart skipped a beat or two as relief settled over her. Certainly she had been protective of her ducklings in the confines of Hell, but her worries hung around Solaris like fish around a boat, ever flitting about and never settling. All this in conflict with the simple fact that when Solaris so much as _walked_ , Lib couldn’t help but feel drawn into her. These thoughts continued to swirl as the other Aasimar’s imposing form strode up to the bar, ordered a drink that Lib recognized as entirely too strong for what was about to happen, then downed the liquor in one go 

Lib was mostly in awe that Solaris was still standing after that, but then again, Solaris always had a peculiar fortitude, and Lib’s peculiar aura had a way of taking the edge off of more trying experiences. Solaris turned and almost immediately began to ramble a great deal about the Dawn War and the implications of Hell’s formation and destruction, all while remaining remarkably upright. When she finished, she just looked expectantly at Lib with her warm, inviting gaze.

A quiet “...okay…” was all Lib managed to say in the face of that much information.

Although Lib was somewhat used to getting a mountain of information piled on her by either The Historian or The Mender, she was very much _not_ accustomed to having this much information related to her from someone so utterly distracting. In an effort to break away from this moment, Lib turned her attention back to the two men who were nominally flirting with each other, albeit getting increasingly drunk and uncomfortable with their own respective inabilities to communicate pretty much anything to the other. This carried on for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was certainly about five minutes, before the two managed to find there way to a more private setting.

While the lovebirds seemed to have found something of a happy ending, Solaris was having a rougher time: not only was the extremely pertinent information that she had retrieved only heard by an audience of two due the incredible amount of… pairing up occurring, but the alcohol also clearly started to hit more or less all at once. It took only a moment for her forehead to be pressed against the bar’s surface as she continued muttering something about the sheer amount of horniness that dogged her companions.

Lib sighed and moved to carry Solaris back to their portable fortress as soon as it became clear that she was not in a position to get herself back on her own two feet. Cyre, ever the opportunist, took what remained of Solaris’ drink and downed it. Lib thanked the gods that she had this belt, otherwise she probably would have folded under the combined weight of a very drunk Aasimar and the laughter that escaped Lib’s lips.

Back in their quarters, Lib gently laid Solaris onto her typical bunk. She sat for a moment in the quiet, admiring how the moonlight caught on Solaris’ dark hair, her cheeks, her neck. Just as she moved to head towards her own bunk, a powerful arm wound its way around Lib’s waist and pulled her down onto the bunk.

_Surely she’s still asleep,_ Lib thought to herself as her new bunkmate let out a soft, contented hum. Considering the possibility of worming her way out of Solaris’ embrace became less and less present in Lib’s mind as the deep sleep promised by Solaris’ arms; in this moment, Lib was fixated on the warmth and comfort and … _life_ that emanated from the stilled, angelic form that held her.

_Life…_ Lib thought … _I could get used to this._


End file.
